King of the World
by Citizen Chauvelin
Summary: OneShot Song fic. Chauvelin is arrested by the Committee and muses on the turn of the Revolution.


**Ok, this being the first time I have ever attempted to do something like this, I had no idea how it was going to turn out or if I was even doing it right. But here it is. A song fic. I doubt I've got the concept correct, but this is an experimant anda learning experience. So please, if someone knows how to actually do these, please review and tell me how it is. And if you don't know, review anyway and let me know how it turned out. Anyway, song fic based on King of the World from the musical Songs For A New World, and, like all of my other stuff, this is a Pimpernelbased story. And like all my other stuff, it's Chauvie focused. But this one is Percy Marguerite friendly, and doesn't even really address the entire relationship thing. So it should be alright. Anyway, I based this off real historical events, namely, at the end of March of 1794, when Robespierre flips his lid and arrests Danton, who was actually on the Committee, and I just chucked Chauvie into that lot. So yes, first shot at this sort of thing. Please review! I need the feedback! Lyrics are in italics. Duh.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Scarlet Pimpernel. I don't own the song King of the World. And I don't own history.**

**King of the World**

Chauvelin hit the dusty floor hard, and before he had a chance to get his bearings, the heavy door slammed shut and he heard the sickening, all too familiar sound of the bolt being slid into place. And he was a prisoner of the Republic, the very regime that he lived for!

_Once upon a time I had tides to control  
I had worlds to win  
And stars to ignite  
And they threw flowers at my feet  
When I walked through the town_

He was an idealist, and they loved him for it. France was at it's very worst, what with all the food shortages, the extreme poverty, and the gross unfairness the Third Estate, the people of France, were subjected to. The nobility was living the highlife and constantly exploited the workingman, the many without privilege by birth, and it was horribly unjust. The people were oppressed, disheartened, and all together hopeless. Any resistance was quickly destroyed, a lost cause, and unwinable battle, an impossible dream…

But then there emerged a few who saw hope, an opportunity, a new world. These were fighters, idealists, the models for the new world they foresaw, and Chauvelin was one of them. He saw what was wrong, and knew how to fix it. And the people clung to him, admired him, loved him for the hope for the people.

_Once upon a time I had lives to protect  
I had rules to change  
And wrongs to set right  
And there were people at my side  
And there were rivers I could guide  
I wanted nothing in return_

The Storming of the Bastille, and he found himself with power far beyond what he had ever hoped for. He was a leader, and they looked to him for guidance, for protection, for hope, a shining emblem of the freedom that this new world had to offer. And then, in those days of a glorious vision, before the Revolution destroyed its own dream and became a bloodbath, corrupted by its own power, he had _her_. Marguerite, a shining star, a bright eyed child who was taken in by the promise of freedom and equality for all people, he had her, and she loved him. Blindly so, much in the same way that he followed his beloved Republic. And in her, in the Revolution, he had all he ever wanted; he gave it all for them, and never really expected anything for himself. Not for him; never for him. For the people, always for the people…

_Let me out of here  
Give me back all my dreams  
Let me out of here Let please see the sun  
Let me out of here  
At least tell me what I did wrong_

What had happened? Everything was going so well, so smoothly…and then he and fifteen influential others, including Citizen Danton, one of the leaders of the Revolution, were arrested under Robespierre's orders. Seized and thrown in this prison without cause. And here he was, locked away from the very cause he worked so hard to defend. They had taken everything from him in one act. All his hopes and dreams unfairly robbed, and for what? He didn't even know…it had been so sudden, so unexpected. He had done nothing wrong. And his beloved Republic, his life's work, had imprisoned him as a traitor. Where was justice now? Or perhaps that justice had never existed, and he just hadn't seen it until now…

_I'm king of the world  
Chief of the sea  
High in the wind  
At least I used to be  
And I'm king of the world  
Please set me free  
Let me remind them of my promise  
Live my given destiny_

Damn it all! He did not belong here! He was the heart of the Revolution! How dare they throw him away without a second thought? He helped form this society; he was a driving force behind the change. Why him…

Of course, the vision and the dream he had did not exactly end up the way he had planned. It got to a point where his own survival took precedence over proper justice. Of course, that was not his fault. The dream could never match the reality, but Heavens he wished it did. And he was at the top of the regime. A chief agent of the Republic, an ambassador; the people respected him, feared him, cleared the streets when he walked by. He was a symbol of power and authority. He should not be here, left alone and stripped of his power. Oh, how far the great fall.

_Once upon a time I had fate in my hands  
And the confidence of a million regimes  
And they said, "Brother you're in charge  
We'll follow anything you say"_

He was never on the Committee, and he never asked to be. He was happy where he was. He had the power of the military, and though he did not particularly like being subject to the whims of people like Robespierre and Louis St. Just, he had the power that he needed. The people put him into power, and they followed him without question; of course, that was more out of fear then anything else, but what did that matter? It mattered not by what means he was followed so long as he held them where he wished them. And he did so love that power.

_Once upon a time Father said to me,  
"Child you are everything  
That you see in your dreams"  
And I thought, Jesus, that's the key  
There are no walls surrounding me  
There are no prisons in this life_

Anything could be done. Look at all they had accomplished; the people were free as they had never been before. They had destroyed the King, Louis Capet, and the people ruled. So much was possible, and they had done so much. Their dream was becoming a reality with each passing day, and it was beautiful. The total destruction of the noble classes, the very people who destroyed France with their elaborate spending, with their high class living, with their self bestowed superiority…well, look who had the upper hand now. Those walls the damned aristocrats built between themselves and the rest of France ended up being little more then air, and they fell by the hundreds in the beautiful, crimson red of their noble blood.

_Let me out of here  
Give me back to the wind  
Let me out of here  
Let me please see my sun  
Let me out of here  
Don't you understand who I am?_

And it was here that Chauvelin sat, cold and alone in the very cell that was very likely previously occupied by on of the aristocracy that he so despised. The irony of it all was sick. They were worlds apart, he, a faithful servant of the people, and the traitorous aristocrat whom he now shared a similar fate with. What could they possibly have in common other then their situation? This was obviously a mistake, they had the wrong man. He was Armand Chauvelin, the Terrorist! Did they not know that? He was one of the most feared men in France. He needed out; this was clearly a mistake. They _needed_ him…this was a mistake…

_I'm king of the world  
Chief of the sea  
High in the wind  
At least I try to be  
And I'm king of the world  
Please set me free  
I had the power and the promise  
Give me back my family_

Even the Committee, Robespierre himself, listened to him! If that was not power, what was? Oh sure, the Incorruptible had more power than he, but that was to be expected, being that he was a subordinate of the Committee leader. But still, he had the power that the dream of Paris gave to him, and he guarded that closely, held it dear to him. After all, he gave everything to the investment of a new world brought forth by the Republic. The Revolution possessed his heart and soul, and he lost so much because of it. So many years of his life had been given to the hopeful freedom of the people, and he had lost the love of the one woman he ever truly…what? Loved? No, it was as close to love as he had ever been, but his heart belonged to another mistress, the Lady Liberty, and she had been the one to imprison him. She betrayed his trust, just as he had done to his lovely Marguerite…he was a fool to not love her.

_Why are we punished for wanting to explore?  
Why am I sitting in this cell?  
I was not challenging the system  
I was working for the people  
I just wanted to be better_

Something had died during the course of the Revolution. Somewhere, the dream, the ideal, the vision that had spurred the formation of the Republic had died. He was not sure when he realized this, but he was becoming sure that it happened long before he noticed. The arrest and execution of the aristocrats was essential; after all, they destroyed France, and now France would destroy them. But then, Robespierre seized full power. And the people were being executed in place of the aristocrats; simply because of the fact that there were no more noble families left in France, they had either fled the country or had already been claimed by the National Razor. But the mob called for blood, and they were indulged with the blood of the very people that Chauvelin was fighting for.

Yes, he found himself doubting the existence of the dream when he was called to arrest people he knew were innocent. By default, all nobility was guilty of the same crime, but these were the people that he swore to free and protect. The Republic was collapsing in on itself, destroying the very people that supported it. No, he was not fighting the Republic; he was supporting it by supporting the people. It was the ideals of the new regime that had changed, not him. He still believed in that dream of freedom, and he was now waiting his death because of it…

_Why are we punished for wanting to survive?  
Why am I locked behind these bars?  
Tell thepeople I'll return to them  
Tell them . . . Someone,  
Let them know I will be free_

The Reign of Freedom had become a Reign of Terror, and people – innocent people! – were being killed in the thousands everyday. Not even the Scarlet Pimpernel made a difference anymore. His successful rescues of prisoners used to be a disaster to the Republican ideal, but now the successful rescues went unnoticed. What were a few renegades when still thousands more would die that day? Life had become cheep, and ideals had become a crime. And in one moment of hesitation, Chauvelin had forgotten the need to survive, no matter the cost of other life, and he would now suffer the loss of his life for that. Anything less than absolute compliance was seen to be treason, and here he was.

In a brief moment of his typical fierce determination, Chauvelin's pale yellow eyes flashed with iron resolve; he _would_ get out. This was unjust, unfair. The Republic that he so loved was gone, and so help him, he would rekindle that flame of freedom and justice. The Republic would live again, and he would make sure personally that it did not warp and twist into something like this a second time. No, he would be free.

_I will not be defeated  
I will stand like a mountain  
And the road will stretch before me  
And they'll know it's time to follow_

What was it that Danton said as they were arrested? "Robespierre will follow me; he is dragged down by me." Yes, it would be so. Let Robespierre stop him, and the tyrant would fall. He would escape, and he would rally the people behind him as he had done before. They will follow, and Robespierre would fall harder then any of them had. He deserved it. Chauvelin knew where to go, what to do. Everything was suddenly clear now. If anything, the death of his dream only filled him with more determination to resurrect it. And no one would stand in his way.

_And we'll lift our eyes  
And raise our heads  
And face the sun  
And tell the future  
I'm king of the world  
Land of the free  
High in the sky  
The best that I can be  
And I'm king of the world  
Watch and you'll see  
Nothing can stop me from tomorrow,  
Keep me from my destiny_

Oh yes, he would rise to power again; he belonged in the power. France would see a new day, and would wake from this nightmare of a dream turned astray. The blood would be washed away, they could start over again…

Chauvelin's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Prison was driving him insane. What was he thinking? Casting his eyes toward the ground, he realized the direction that he had taken; he _was_ a traitor…overthrowing the government of Robespierre, the leader of France. It was treason, and Robespierre must have seen that before Chauvelin even knew he was capable of the very notion. His imprisonment was just. Everything was gone. The Republic was dead, and with it went his dreams of freedom and equality. And he would die a traitor, as he so deserved, taken from this very world from the mistress that he put so much faith in.

_I'm king of the world  
I'm king of the world  
I'm . . . I'm . . .  
At least I used to be_

The door opened, and there stood the soldiers that would bring him to a quick trial, and his inevitable death. Rising from the ground, Chauvelin filed in line behind the others without protest. His reign of power as the king of the world was over, and there was little to be done about it. That day, he would enter eternity, a welcomed escape from this land where his dreams had died. Let it come, Chauvelin would not resist.


End file.
